


Spoiler

by betterrecieved



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:45:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot.  Men of Honor missing scenes from Nasir’s POV. In which mornings suck, Agron is patient, Nasir is dickmatized, and Nemetes is a shit-eating fuck-face.  Slight allusion to past non-con.</p><p>This is fluff-flavored fluff with fluffy sprinkles on top, tbh. Have your blood glucose testing kit ready.  Brush your teeth thoroughly after reading to prevent cavities. Don’t ride on a roller-coaster after reading this, you will blow chunks.</p><p>It’s fluffy and overly sweet like cotton candy, is what I’m trying to say here.</p><p>Please excuse all mistakes, it’s unbeta’d!</p><p>ETA: I took out some stuff to make it less OOC, as someone pointed out...I just love bratty Nasir though!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoiler

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this fluffiness helps ease the pain after 3x08 Nagron spoilers...

Nasir dreams of Agron:

Defender, slaying monsters of past life which reach grasping claws toward Nasir’s unwilling flesh.

Friend. No, better than friend. Agron is own private god to Nasir, who sees past excess of avaricious passions to Agron’s titanic heart which eclipses breadth of universe.

Lover, whose hand finds his heart and presses, presses. Every time, and every time delicious thought stuns Nasir: Hardened gladiator becomes gentled for me, and only for me. This is only for me.

‘Nasir.’

Dream takes on tinge of reality, and Nasir moans, rolls over onto stomach, thrusting erect, leaking cock against bed’s surface. He feels Agron’s thickness, in and out and in and out, spiraling up in force until Nasir can hardly take him.

‘Agron, it is too much! Agron!’

‘Nasir!’

Nasir blindly lashes angry fist at enemy who firmly grasps his shoulder, shaking him away from wonderful Agron-filled slumber. Hitting hard armored chest of adversary, he strikes again, this time higher, with more force, only to find target has evaded him.

‘Nasir, put wet dream behind you and arise immediately!’

Nasir turns to face wall, cocooning himself in bedsheets.

Makeshift fortress proves useless; Agron lifts Nasir effortlessly, standing him on shaky feet upon floor.

Nasir, eyes still closed, frowns up at where Agron’s voice originates, yawns so hard his jaw aches. ‘I have scarce shut eyes! Allow me to rest only awhile longer, and I will be refreshed and ready to join you before sun breaches sky!’

‘Remember duty to Spartacus and tarry no more!’ Agron admonishes. But harsh words are softened by warm, damp cloth gently wiping traces of sleep from Nasir’s face.

‘I dreamt of you,’ Nasir tells him, yawning again. He attempts to focus gaze upon Agron, but his eyelids prove leaden.

Agron jostles Nasir’s body, lifting Nasir’s arm into armor, tightening straps.

Nasir hears Agron’s retreating footsteps and his head begins to nod. Then Agron is approaching once more. Nasir’s upper body is being wrapped up snugly in warmth of what must be Nasir’s cloak.

‘I yet feel you within me,’ Nasir murmurs.

‘And you shall feel me again, beautiful, but for now we must hurry!’

Cup of water pressed into hand, Nasir rinses mouth. Spits back into cup, which he immediately fumbles onto floor.

‘Now that you are properly attired and have watered my feet, we may leave,’ Agron insists.

‘I must first brush my hair,’ Nasir procrastinates, squinting open tired eyes as he makes to sit upon bed.

But Agron pulls him back to his feet, snatching up brush from table. Agron expertly whips bristles through tangled locks before deftly tying Nasir’s hair back.

‘We make for gate _now_ ,’ Agron growls, and in _that_ tone, which Nasir can only obey.

But not before tilting head back, puckering lips to receive Agron’s tender morning kiss.

*

Agron grasps his hand as they move through quiet alleyways, pulling him along so quickly that Nasir must run to keep up with Agron’s impatient strides.

When they reach meeting-place, Nasir is out of breath and mostly awake.

Almost all whose presence Spartacus has requested are assembled in dim morning light. Nasir and Agron are not late but stand quietly side-by-side, waiting for Spartacus and Gannicus.

Nasir resists urge to use Agron as wall to lean tired body upon.

He watches Agron face harden as Agron sets mind to coming negotiation with distrusted Cilicians. As always, Nasir feels shiver in spine at subtle transformation in Agron from careful lover to trusted General.

His Agron, who only last night made blasphemous vow of loyalty, who held Nasir to his chest and swayed them both while Nasir’s breath hitched.

Who sucked and lapped so hungrily at Nasir’s cock that he screamed for him to stop, lest Nasir reach climax before Agron could fill him with long, thick cock which Nasir craves so greedily.

Agron, who wormed wet, wriggling tongue slowly into Nasir’s twitching hole, Nasir keening at nasty-sweet sensation which will always feel so strange to him.

Who held Nasir in huge arms which dwarf his own, curling lean, muscular body around Nasir’s and taking him so deeply, so gently, so slowly that when Nasir tries to tell Agron how he could never crave touch of another, he can only gasp and moan and clutch at Agron’s gauntlets.

Agron who soothed him afterward when Nasir twisted around within circle of those arms, hiding face against Agron’s broad chest.

‘Agron…’ Nasir sighs rough-sounding name of beautiful man to himself.

Agron turns to look down at him. ‘Yes?’

Nasir blushes, finally grateful they have risen before dawn; Agron cannot see his face redden. ‘Nothing. It is nothing.’

Nasir, with deep breath, pushes insistent memories from mind, moves away from man whose presence so distracts him this day. Follows Agron’s example, hardening mind and countenance to focus upon mission.

Soon Gannicus and Spartacus appear, and at Spartacus’ orders Nasir’s eyes widen.

To stand upon wall as mere sentry while pirates stand on other side with true intent unknown…Nasir has stood with weapon drawn alongside Agron upon field of battle for so long now that it is impossible thing to imagine being separated thus.

Nasir is Agron’s other eyes, his second set of hands. When Agron stands in peril Nasir finds himself at Agron’s side at crucial moment, body thrumming, attuned somehow to Agron’s mortality.

He takes quick steps toward Agron.

‘I would stand with you!’ Nasir tells him. He appeals with his eyes for Agron to leverage position as General in Nasir’s favor.

But Agron only looks down at him calmly, taking Nasir’s chin in strong hand, softly shaking Nasir’s face.

‘Go,’ he orders gently. ‘I shall return shortly.’

Nasir, uneasy yet loathe to disobey tactical order of two men whom he holds in highest regard, can only nod before accepting reassuring kiss from Agron.

It is difficult thing to tear gaze from Agron as he walks away, and he pours thoughts into his stare:

“I love you. Please, Agron, should trouble arise and clash of steel proves inevitable, kill them all and then return here to me without delay.”

Agron stares back at Nasir as if he _knows_.

*

Without meaning to be, Nasir is short with Naevia. She requests report from wall, and and Nasir can only spit out that it is all shit and piss to him, for darkness obscures shore.

Silence upon shore is eerie and Nasir shivers despite protection against chill of early morning.

His thoughts nearly drift to recollections of Agron’s words, Agron’s touch, but commotion below him distracts from untimely sentiment.

News of missing Romans unnerves Nasir. He calls after Naevia, who only sends him back to frustrating purpose as she leaves to investigate.

*

Multitude of spears arcs toward rebels just as sky lightens enough for Nasir to make out Agron.

Everything seems to happen at once: Nasir’s stomach plummets into feet, Roman army formation advances, orbs of fire streak toward shore from foggy sea.

Nasir descends from wall so hurriedly he nearly plummets to ground below.

*

He will not open _gate_.

Nasir must reach Agron’s side, yet fucking Nemetes refuses to order gate opened.

Nasir yells order himself at dumbfounded rebels who, new to city, only stare stupidly at Nemetes, who shakes his head.

Around Nemetes cluster of hardened rebels appears, unsavory men who seem more interested in brothels than rebellion. Agron would not have Nasir associate with them, and Nasir humors Agron’s request, for at any rate he would not willingly make their acquaintance.

From shady group of men issues sneering commentary on Nasir’s height, his beauty, his price should he decide to ply trade in brothel.

Nasir makes attempt at opening gate himself, but Nemetes and his companions block way.

‘Remove yourselves from fucking path!’

‘Be calm, boy,’ Nemetes says blandly. ‘I will open gate upon command from Spartacus, and no sooner.’

‘He cannot give command, he is under attack!’ Nasir, desperate, unsheathes sword which hangs at his waist. ‘I ask you final time to clear fucking path!’

Stupid shits cease snickering down at Nasir, instead reaching for weapons, but Nemetes moves to stand between them with hands raised, placating.

‘Little one belongs to Agron!’ Nemetes cries nervously. ‘I will not take blame should harm come to Agron’s property!’

Repellent men step back as one, respectful of Agron’s reputation, if nothing else.

Nasir spits at them, but they only laugh. Nasir has never killed man who did not stand Roman, but now he considers weight of murder as feather compared to thought of losing Agron.

Just as Nasir’s hand begins to raise sword, sentry calls down from atop city wall.

‘Spartacus signals order! Open gates!’

*

Nasir winds through crush of city’s occupants, turning head with reluctance toward neat line of corpses by open city gates.

So far as he can see, Agron is not among them. Yet Nasir cannot find Agron’s head rising above crowd.

With grim face Nasir walks back toward interior of city. If Agron has fallen…It is unbearable thought.

Then Nasir sees Agron before him, and it is sight brighter than belated risen sun.

Nasir runs into Agron’s arms with smile splitting his face.

‘I thought you gone from this world,’ he admits to Agron, letting go to stare up at Agron’s smiling face.

‘You will not so easily see me from your arms,’ Agron tells him with careless smugness that Nasir would reproach him for at any other time.

Nasir tells Agron of Nemetes and his odious shits, how Nasir attempted to come to aid but was repulsed.

As he speaks Nasir glares at Nemetes, who has walked toward them behind Spartacus.

Spartacus defends idiot Nemetes, insists that Nemetes only held firm to Spartacus’ own order.

But nothing, not even Spartacus’ word, nor Agron safe within his arms, can lessen Nasir’s new-found hatred for Nemetes.

*

Nasir bites lip as Agron attempts to gently press cock into him. He looks up into Agron’s eyes to steady himself, but tears of pain blur vision.

Nasir’s body betrays him; he is too sore to be fucked again.

No, he is _not_ pouting. He simply wants to be held down, handled with big, rough, tender hands, and fucked for seeming eternity until he cries so hard he cannot breathe. It is not difficult thing to ask of Agron, is it?

He is _not_ spoiled. He is _not_ , though if Agron does not cease his teasing, Nasir will hide within impenetrable shield of bedclothes, refusing to emerge until Agron has learned to never again abandon him.

His General looks serious, bedroom game forsaken as he grasps Nasir’s chin in hand. ‘Nasir, I but followed command of respected leader Spartacus. I have returned as promised. I am here now.’

And with hands, with mouth, with weight of body pressing Nasir down and down, with strength surpassing limits of mere mortal men, Agron slays Nasir’s vicious new monster.


End file.
